


Appeasing the Inquisitor

by manka



Series: How to Win a Losing Hand: One-Shots from the Love Story of Varric Tethras and Maria Cadash (Canon Dragon Age Setting) [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dwarves, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Love Bites, Mirror Sex, Shameless Smut, Varric Tethras' Chest Hair, corsets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22703698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/manka
Summary: Inquisitor Maria Cadash is famous for her fiery temper (it goes with the red hair, after all.) She's also known for being less than enthusiastic about Orlesian social events. When her advisers attempt to get her into a gown, Maria's temper sparks to life. There's only one dwarf who can solve the problem.
Relationships: Female Cadash/Varric Tethras, Female Inquisitor/Varric Tethras
Series: How to Win a Losing Hand: One-Shots from the Love Story of Varric Tethras and Maria Cadash (Canon Dragon Age Setting) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896694
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	Appeasing the Inquisitor

If they put her in one more silk dress, she’d start screaming, and Maker help them she’d never stop. As if finally sensing the roiling danger coming off her in waves, Josephine and Leliana finally retreated and Maria ripped the latest Orlesian frippery from her skin without a second thought. The delicate material tore, the sound soothing her frayed nerves, and she let it fall in triumph. 

Hah, she thought. At least they wouldn’t go with _that_ one. She stood over it as victoriously as she stood over the dragon they felled in the plains. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears and she tried to tamp down the bloody rage in her veins before she damaged something she’d rather keep. She raised her cool gaze from the tangle of fine cloth on the floor and back up to scan her room. She still stood in front of the gaudy mirror, all gilt and gold paint, her reflection literally dwarfed by the gigantic expanse of glass. She could see the flush of her temper on her pale skin, from the tips of her ears the whole way to her breasts still trapped in the corset they laced her into. 

Suddenly, Maria spotted the problem. 

“Sodding ancestors.” She swore, fingers flying to the back of the thing to try and find the laces. “If it isn’t blighted demons and blood magic, it’s fucking finery and sneering nobles and _corsets_.” 

She’d rather storm right up to Corypheus and his dragon with nothing but her good looks. Her fingers tangled in the unfamiliar strings and she bit back a sob of frustration. 

Varric’s warm, dark chuckle cut through her searing anger and squirming embarrassment. “Problems, Princess?”

“Of fucking course!” She cursed, ceasing her useless struggles to pin him with her furious gaze. “You march your dwarven ass _right_ back down those steps and tell Josie and Leliana to grow a set and come get me out of this damn thing.” 

Varric’s grin only grew more satisfied in the face of her impotent fury. He raised an eyebrow and lifted his hands. “What if I promised to heroically rescue you from the throes of this dastardly undergarment?” 

She dropped her hands from the laces immediately and turned to present her back to him with more relief than she cared to examine. “Get this off me Varric before I start hacking at it with my knife. I’m sure it’s bleedin’ expensive and I don’t want to listen to a lecture about why I can’t have nice things.” 

“Your wish is my command.” He said smoothly, his warm voice curling over her like fine whiskey. Within a moment, he was at her back, but instead of making for the laces immediately, like she’d ordered, both his hands trailed down her sides, following the stiff boning of the garment from her bust to the dip of waist the flare of her hips. 

She turned to fix him with an accusing stare over her bare, freckled shoulder. Varric instantly adopted an expression of wounded innocence, but she didn’t buy it for a second. “You like it.” She accused. 

Men, they were all the same. Varric grinned, not even slightly abashed, his fingers dancing back up over the front of the contraption. “A tiny, insignificant amount.” He admitted. 

“Traitor.” She bit out, even though she could feel her temper receding in the face of his sunny, carefree charm. “Why don’t you finish the job and just sell me right out to the Venatori?” 

Varric’s warm chuckle caused the skin at the back of her neck to prickle with excitement, his lips ghosting near her pulse as he whispered against her heated skin. “I prefer the idea of taking it off, to be honest.” 

“What are you waiting for then?” She demanded with a laugh of her own and a cheerful toss of her red hair. Varric’s deft fingers instantly retreated to tug rather more effectively at the laces. Someone, clearly, had practice undoing women’s fancy undergarments. It sent an uncomfortable pang through her, but she banished it resolutely. 

It wasn’t fair to begrudge him experience _and_ take advantage of it at the same time, after all. The laces loosened and she finally felt like she could breathe for the first time in hours. At the same time, Varric’s lips pressed a searing kiss right behind her ear, one she felt the whole way in her knees. He followed the line of her neck, stubble scraping against her skin, sending delicious prickles of sensation through her entire body. By the time the corset fell away, his tongue was tracing the freckles on her shoulders. 

Finally free, she twisted to face him, pressing her bare breasts against the silk of his shirt, the rough hair decorating his chest. She captured his teasing, smirking mouth with her own demanding kiss. She didn’t break it off until she felt his fingers dig into her waist on instinct rather than artifice. She broke away with her own low, throaty laugh and caught his dancing amber eyes with her own. “You know they sent you up here to appease me, right?” 

“How do you know I was _sent_ anywhere?” Varric asked, pulling back to examine her bare form greedily. 

She knew _exactly_ what happened. Josephine went running to Varric saying the Inquisitor was having one of her moods. Varric, of course, made a great show of closing his journal, putting away his letters, and ambling up to her room to soothe her rattled temper before she started throwing things. The inner circle was _always_ throwing Varric at her because...

Well, because he was _very_ hard to be mad at, especially when his thumbs traveled up her soft skin, the roundness of her stomach, tracing the imprints of the boning the corset left with a teasing smirk. “These I don’t care for. I can think of much better marks we could leave.” 

And just like that, the last of her temper vanished. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against him wantonly, tugging at the loose strands of his hair. “Is that a promise, Varric?” 

His mouth claimed hers again with a desperate, intense passion. His big hands settled on her waist, drew her flush against him so her pebbled nipples brushed against his shirt and she could feel the heat of him radiating into her. She dropped her hands immediately, keeping her eyes closed, first to that ridiculous sash, unknotting it with a smuggler’s efficiency. As soon as it was gone she made short work of the rest of the buttons on his tunic.

He let go of her just long enough to allow her to push it from his shoulders, then his mouth dropped back to her neck, teeth pinching her skin, tongue laving out to soothe the sting, drawing little whimpers from her mouth as she twisted one hand in his hair, the other digging into the hard, solid muscles of his arms. 

The woman could go choke on a nug for all she cared, but if that damn crossbow had resulted in his glorious physique, Maria really owed Bianca a thank you letter. Maybe she could have Josie write it. 

Her eyes opened blearily and fixed on the mirror. She could see the rippling muscles of Varric’s back, her hand gripping his golden hair, her flushed face over his shoulder, and the low dwarven bed directly behind them. 

“Varric.” She keened, tugging his hair gently. He pulled away, dark eyes sweeping up to her, then following where her gaze pointed. The laugh that rumbled out of him sounded absolutely sinful while he looked at the mirror. 

“Please tell me you’re thinking what I’m thinking.” She pleaded in an unsteady, husky voice. 

“Princess.” He crooned. “When am I _not_ thinking what you’re thinking?” 

Truer words had never been said. She could nearly always see her own thoughts reflected back in wry twists of Varric’s smile, usually some shared amusement at their companion’s antics, shared disgruntlement with humans, or sheer joy at discovering unplundered loot. 

She didn’t know exactly how they made it to the edge of the bed, but the logistics didn’t matter. What mattered was that she ended up facing the mirror, seated on Varric’s lap, her thighs spread wide over his legs, the only thing protecting her modesty the thin smalls she wore. His hands cupped both her breasts and she pressed back against his bare chest, arching into his touch while he teased her nipples to attention, sending jolts of white hot pleasure to her core. Underneath her ass, she felt his swollen cock within his breeches and she shifted teasingly until he growled and pressed his lips back to her shoulder, sucking perhaps a bit harder than he normally would. She cried out, but the pain faded to pleasure immediately as one of Varric’s hands slipped beneath her smalls. 

She could see his shit-eating grin in the mirror and she wanted to hate him for it, but she couldn’t summon up the appropriate venom. He kissed her jaw, up to her ear, watching as she squirmed against his too light, teasing caresses. 

“You’re awfully excited, Maria.” He whispered. She shuddered, couldn’t help the tiny frustrated moan that slipped from her lips as he said her name. She knew she was slick with want, could feel his fingers dancing over exactly where she needed him to touch. 

Underneath her ass, his cock pulsed with the same desire. She didn’t stop writhing in his lap, both in an attempt to get his fingers where she wanted and to punish him for his teasing with some retribution of her own. His breath, hot and heavy, against her skin showed he was fighting a losing battle with his own need. 

He slid one finger into her and she clenched down on him hard, riding his hand with single minded desperation. His other hand untied her smalls and nearly ripped them to the side, leaving her obscenely bare to his eyes. Maria couldn’t take her eyes away from her swollen, slick center spread open for his enjoyment, his first finger joined by a second as his thumb circled her clit. 

“Varric, please...” She half sobbed, hips rising as much as she could to get a better angle, to fuck herself on his fingers. He laughed, low and dark, against her kiss marked skin. 

“Are you close already sweetheart?” He teased, his other hand gently pinching her hard nipple. She was flushed the whole way down her torso, panting, a sheen of sweat covering her as Varric delayed what she wanted, giving her not quite enough, pushing her higher and higher without letting her shatter. 

She dropped her head back on his shoulder and gave into the feelings, the sensation, and he finally took pity on her. His touch directly on her clit was almost too much, a third finger slipping inside her and curling just right as he pushed her to brink.

She shattered with a cry that carried his name, wetness coating his fingers, the breeches he still wore. She went limp against him, muscles unable to support her. Varric swore, lifting her to tangle with his own laces. She felt him growl in frustration as desire made his deft fingers clumsy. Then she felt him, velvet steel against her drenched opening, teasing her sensitive clit. 

“Do you want to watch, Maria?” He asked, his hands digging into the soft flesh of her thighs as he bucked against her. “Do you want to watch me take you, sweetheart?” 

Maker, yes. She lifted her head from his shoulder and focused her bleary eyes on the thick, perfect cock between her legs. When he knew he had her attention, he sweetly kissed the side of her neck, lifting her until he had her just where he wanted.

With one sure thrust, his cock stretched her open, split her pussy in two. She watched him sink into her, greedy for the way he felt inside her, the fullness of him, the heat of him. He thrust several times, shallow to loosen her tight sheath. When he sank fully inside her, he pressed his forehead to the back of her head and huffed shakily. “Princess, this may not be my finest performance.” 

Let it never be said that Maria Cadash couldn’t come up with a zinger _even_ when she was being thoroughly, properly fucked. “Can’t be worse than Swords and Shields, Varric.” 

He laughed, his grip tightening until she knew he’d leave bruises, but she didn’t care. She _wanted_ them, wanted his marks on her skin, wanted to see them alongside the scars, proof she wasn’t just some holy icon of stone, but a woman. A flesh and blood woman who was _desired_ by someone like Varric fuckin’ Tethras. 

Sod it all, she’d wear the damn dresses and let _everyone_ see them. 

That was the last coherent thought in her head. Varric was in control this time and there wasn’t much she could do except writhe and buck against his iron grip as he lifted and lowered her spread form, his cock disappearing into her warm heat over and over. She couldn’t look away, not even when another orgasm shocked her, sent her muscles clenching around his hard shaft and his name ringing across the room. 

This tipped him over the edge and his rhythm suffered, jerky and imprecise, before he buried himself in her with a loud groan and a shudder, his arms leaving her thighs to wrap tightly around her waist instead as he filled her with his seed. She could see some of it spilling from where they were joined. 

Perfect. _Perfect_. He was always so damn perfect. 

She shifted, his softening cock slipping from her, and captured his lips desperately one last time with her own, hoping to convey all the things she couldn’t pour into words into that kiss. 

As if he understood her perfectly, like he always did, he laid back on the bed, tugging her with him. They lapsed into comfortable, calm silence for several long minutes, their breathing fighting to return to normal, heartbeats still thudding in their chests. 

“Well.” Varric drawled, exhausted and overly-pleased with himself, “I’d say you’re successfully appeased. Exalted March on your two best advisers successfully diverted.” 

She giggled in spite of herself. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come go crazy about DA dwarves with me on tumblr: @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold


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